


Begin Anew

by chissprincess



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, One-Shot, Slavery, slave rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 07:36:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,097
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1419837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chissprincess/pseuds/chissprincess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin rescues and enslaved Dwarf, and gains more than he ever thought possible.</p>
<p>Written for cgleome on Tumblr as part of my 2014 Fic Giveaway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Begin Anew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cgleome](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=cgleome).



     The citizens of the town (whose name Thorin didn’t care to remember) often gathered around the doors and windows of the blacksmith shop where Thorin worked, watching him as though his job was to put on a show for them and not to make the various things the shop’s customers ordered. To be fair, watching Thorin Oakenshield take a shapeless lump of blackened iron and turn it into a deadly weapon or a beautiful tool _was_ quite enjoyable. The people seemed to enjoy his fiery passion the most. The great strength with which he struck hammer to anvil, and to the metal being shaped between them, never failed to send ripples of awe through the crowd.

     If only they had known the reason behind his passion.

     These days, Thorin existed in an almost constant state of anger, and it was only the fact that he could take his frustrations out on the metal he worked that prevented his anger from boiling over into a deadly rage. But Thorin’s anger didn’t come from the most obvious source. Oh, of course, he was still fuming over the loss of Erebor to Smaug, still stinging from that smug bastard Thranduil’s refusal to help them even after marching his army all the way to the mountain…but that anger had long since been tamed and turned into something useful, namely, his drive to keep working and keep moving and do everything he had to for the people in his care. This fury was something else entirely and was caused by one thing only.

    This was a slaving town.

     Thorin hadn’t realized what he was getting into when he led his people here. He had only heard that work in blacksmithing and other crafting trades was good and plentiful here, and that it paid extraordinarily well. The pay was so high that it had enticed him to bring his people to a town none of them had ever heard of, in a place that was outside the boarders of their maps, because even a season of work here would provide them with more money than they had had since the loss of Erebor. Thorin’s original plan had been for them to set up a sturdy camp and to stay for at least half the year, allowing him and the other skilled workers among them the chance to work as much as they could and save as much money as possible so they could continue their hunt for a new home. What Thorin and the others hadn’t realized was that the town’s shocking wealth came from the slave trade, which Thorin had thought long since dead in the portions of Middle-Earth he knew about. Even just being in the same town sickened him. But each time he considered throwing in the towel and just leaving, he returned to the campsite where his people lived and saw what their lives had become, and he forced himself to swallow his pride and his morality and return to the blacksmith’s shop. _Just one more day_ , he told himself each time. _One more day…one more project…one more sack of coin to pay for my labor…_

     But the end never seemed to be in sight. The money here was good. His people were living well, at least compared to what they had been putting up with since leaving Erebor. But the reality of life in the town gnawed at him, and every day as he passed through the square on his way to work, he glanced at the future slaves for sale in their cages and silently vowed that someday, when he was King Under the Mountain again and had a proper army at his command, he would return to the town and put an end to this. He found that it didn’t matter to him that the vast majority of the slaves sold were of the race of Men, or that he had never seen a Dwarf in the cages. The practice still disgusted him and someday, he would see it ended.

     And then came the day when, as he squeezed past one of the cages, he heard someone whispering a prayer in Khuzdul. His head snapped up and without even thinking he pressed himself against the bars of the cage, staring into it as he hunted for the source of the words. He didn’t have to search long, for the cage was small and had only one occupant – a young Dwarf woman, her dark hair a matted and dirt-coated mess, her skin covered in so many bruises and so much dirt that her normal skin color was questionable, huddling in the corner and rocking back and forth as she prayed. She raised her fear-filled eyes and almost immediately caught Thorin staring at her, which only made her try to retreat even further into her corner. But there was nowhere left for her to go, so she just shifted around until her back was to him and let out a low keen of despair as she hid her face once more. Thorin watched her for a few more moments, listening intently to the words of her prayer, then he let go of the bars and dashed off to the shop where he worked.

     His greatest fear had been that she was one of his, somehow, a Dwarf of Erebor enslaved right out from under his nose. But her language wasn’t that of Erebor. He could understand her, of course, but her dialect wasn’t the same as his. That understanding allowed a hint of relief to push through the horror of discovering a Dwarf in the slavers’ cage. At least he hadn’t failed one of his people so terribly that they had been enslaved. But then…just because she wasn’t of Erebor didn’t mean she wasn’t one of his. She was. A distant cousin, perhaps, but they were both Dwarves. They were both each other’s people.

     Throughout that day, Thorin tried to distract himself with his work, but it was no use. Today, the hammering and shaping of metal seemed to feed his anger rather than provide a safe outlet for it. And with every strike of the hammer, he repeated the same manta to himself over and over. _I must free her. I must. No argument. I must free her._ As the day went on, he devised a plan…a plan he was sure nobody would agree with, but one that he felt was the only way. And the moment he could leave his shop, he put his plan into action.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Where do you think she came from, laddie?” Balin asked him that night, as they worked through bowls of thick stew full of chunks of meat and vegetables. Before, when they lived in Erebor, such food would have been considered dull, boring, the kind of food served on an everyday basis or in a household where nobody felt like doing much cooking. But now? Now, the rich stew was a luxury, and one they all treasured.

   “No idea,” Thorin said. “Could be anywhere. But it matters not now, she is one of us.” He glanced up as Ori appeared at his side, and held out a fresh bowl of stew to the younger Dwarf. “Bring that to my sister for the girl,” he said. Ori obediently took the bowl and disappeared once more. Thorin watched him go, then made another bowl of stew, to make sure Ori would actually have a good dinner when he returned.

     “You haven’t said how you freed her, Uncle,” Fili said from his spot across the fire. He scooped a bit more stew into his bowl and stirred it as he eyed Thorin.

     And there it was. This was the part he was sure none of them would like. But there was no way to avoid the issue forever. “I bought her.”

     His pronouncement was met with stunned silence. “You…you _bought_ her?” Fili finally asked.

     “Was that wise, Thorin?” Balin added.

     “Yes, I bought her, and yes, it was wise,” Thorin rumbled. He shoveled the last bit of stew meat into his mouth and set his bowl down.

     “But the money…” Fili said. He exchanged a worried look with Balin, who nodded slowly and sadly in agreement.

     “How much did you lose to buy her?” Balin asked. Thorin looked away and refused to answer. Months of income from his hard work had vanished in an instant when he convinced the slave dealer to sell the Dwarf woman to him, and though he was convinced he had made the right choice, he didn’t have the heart to admit how much he had spent to his companions. But Balin clearly guessed, for he added, “We needed that money, Thorin. Wasn’t there some other way? Couldn’t you have just broken into her cage and set her free?”

     “What, you mean like I did with the Elf?” Thorin asked, and he snorted scornfully. “Have you already forgotten how that ended?”

   Balin and Fili both shifted uncomfortably in their seats and refused to meet Thorin’s gaze. The Elf in question had been young – Thorin didn’t know enough about Elves to be certain but he suspected the poor creature was barely out of childhood – and even the most anti-Elf among the Erebor Dwarves had felt great sorrow at his state. One Dwarf who had met some Elves on her trading trips and had picked up a few Elvish words said she was quite certain she heard the Elf crying for his mother and father on a regular basis. Finally, Thorin’s nephew Kili (who had overheard the Dwarvish trader’s explanation of the Elf’s speech) had decided that he just couldn’t bear to see the young Elf imprisoned anymore, and he begged Thorin to help him free the slave. Thorin had agreed and he, along with a small contingent of stealthy and talented Dwarves, had snuck into the square in the dark of night to free the Elf from his cage. Though they shared no common language, the Elf’s gratitude had been obvious, and he had taken the time to give each of his helpers a warm embrace and whispered words before he scurried off into the night. For several days, Thorin assumed all was well, and then one morning he had arrived in the square to find a new horror – the Elf’s body, covered in marks indicating quite clearly that he had been tortured after being recaptured and before he was finally killed, put up on display as a warning against escape for all the other slaves. Thorin, Balin, and Dwalin had made one more nighttime raid on the square that night, to remove the Elf’s body and give him a proper burial.

     “You did the right thing, Uncle,” Fili finally said. “It’s not right to let one of our own suffer like that.”

   “Aye, that may be,” Balin said, “but what will you do if there’s another Dwarf in the cage tomorrow? Or if you suddenly feel the same compassion for the Men being sold there?”

     Thorin simply stared into the crackling fire before him for a long time, letting his thoughts wander as he did. Balin had a point, of course. Thorin couldn’t save everyone, no matter how much he might want to, and he knew that his triumphant return as King to free the slaves wouldn’t help the ones currently here, who would be long sold off by the time they managed to reclaim Erebor.

     Perhaps it was time for them to move on.

   “We leave in three days,” he said. “I have one final job to finish and I can finish in that time, and then we should go. This place is awful and it was a mistake for me to let us linger here so long.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “Have you a name?” he asked her, doing his best to sound kindly rather than cold. But she turned a fear-filled gaze on him and backed away a few steps. The Dwarves around them either didn’t notice the exchange or chose to ignore it, though as they walked, Thorin noticed one or two Dwarves giving the former slave pitying looks. “I mean you no harm,” he said. “I merely wondered what we should call you.”

     “You bought me,” she pointed out. They were the first words Thorin had heard from her in the week since he had freed her.

     “Yes,” he agreed. “But I do not own you.”

     “But you bought me.” She was completely hung up on that point. Thorin wondered what she had been through before he found her and purchased her freedom.

     He nodded. “Only to free you,” he said. “You do not belong to me. You do not have to follow us, though I think it would be wise. There is strength in numbers.” He walked beside her in silence for a long while, but finally realized he wouldn’t get any answers or other words out of her. “Excuse me,” he said, and disappeared into the crowd to find someone else to talk to. Balin, perhaps, or his sister Dis, who had been caring for the former slave (and who had also noted that the girl didn’t speak). On the way, he passed Kili, and said, “Keep an eye on the girl, would you? I am worried about her. But be cautious, she frightens easily.”

 

***   ***   ***

 

     It was the first time in months that they had been able to stop someplace _nice_ , and though their camp was (as usual) nothing extravagant and many of the tents were in desperate need of repairs, the setting at least lifted the Dwarves’ spirits. They were beside a deep lake, with a mountain range nearby, and the sight of something so like home warmed everyone’s hearts. For the first time since they were driven out of Erebor, Thorin felt like he had managed to do something almost perfectly right for them.

     Well, for all except the former slave girl, who seemed more frightened of the mountains than she did of Thorin himself. Thorin did his best to stay out of her way, and to be polite and friendly when he couldn’t avoid her, but her continued fear pained him and he wished there was something he could do. Balin seemed to believe there was nothing he could do, and urged the young Prince to focus his energies on other things. Fili and Kili felt that their uncle’s idealism in this matter was well placed, and encouraged him to continue in his efforts to care for and befriend the girl. His other friends and relatives kept silent on the matter, except for his sister Dis, who simply continued to take the girl’s care upon herself with no complaint. And so it was that on this night, when Thorin approached Dis’s tent to bring food to his sister and the former slave, he caught their conversation.

     “The mountains are our home. You are a Dwarf, darling, why do you fear them so?” Dis asked.

     “…I’ve never been in a mountain,” the girl’s somewhat mumbled response came. “I was born and raised well away from the things. They seem dangerous. Dragons live in them.”

     “Not in all of them.”

     “In the ones that matter. Isn’t that brother of yours always talking about the dragon that took over your mountain?

     There was silence for moment, then Dis’s voice asked, “Why do you fear my brother? He means you no harm.”

     “He bought me. That means he owns me. They all start nice like this, see. It’s only a matter of time before he turns cruel too.”

     Dis sighed. “Cruelty to the innocent is not Thorin’s way. Nor was it the way of our father or grandfather. He bought you because it was the only way to free you. You are a Dwarf of Erebor now…a free Dwarf.”

     More silence. “That doesn’t make sense. Why would he pay all that money just to set me free?”

     “Because he hated to see one of his own in a cage like that,” Dis said softly. “Because he tried to free another once by helping him escape, and it ended badly.” Thorin heard the sounds of someone moving about inside the tent, then Dis added, “You do not have to like Thorin. Nobody can force that on you. I do wish you would give him a chance to prove himself, though. You have nothing to fear from him, and I think if you knew him better, you would know that.”

     Thorin chose that moment to enter the tent and present them with their meals. “Dinner,” he said, holding out a bowl to each of them. “I know Dis cooked too, but we had extra at my tent and I thought you might like it.”

     Dis smiled at him as she took her bowl and nodded her thanks, then turned her attention back to the girl. The girl (Thorin wished she would tell them her name so he could stop calling her that) shrank away for a moment, then hesitantly reached out and took her food. Her eyes darted to Thorin’s face for a moment, then away, then back again, and then she finally nodded as well and managed a quiet, “Thank you.”

     “You are most welcome,” Thorin said, and disappeared from the tent before their conversation could go any further.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     “I never did like summer very much. It’s far too hot. Give me the cool of winter any day, with the beautiful snow and the brisk wind.”

     Thorin turned in surprise at the voice beside him. The girl he had freed months ago was marching beside him now, not looking at him, but not avoiding him either. She had been doing this a lot recently, ever since that night in the camp by the deep lake when Thorin had brought her food in his sister’s tent. But this was the first time she had spoken to him on her own.

     “No bugs in winter either,” he commented, swatting a fly away from his face. “But less food. It was hardly a problem when we lived in Erebor and could trade with Dale for supplies, but out here, things are different.”

     They walked in silence for several minutes, then she asked, “So why not just choose another mountain?”

   “Because Erebor is home,” Thorin said. He turned a bit to wave at the mass of Dwarves behind and beside them. “All of us are Dwarves of Erebor. And yes, the time may come when we have no other choice, and we must choose a new home. But we are a stubborn people and will not give up so easily.”

     More silence. Then, “It all seems so alien to me. I don’t even know where my people are from. Some Dwarvish mountain I’m sure…but my mother never told me. I don’t think she knew either. I was born to the life of slavery…maybe she was too.”

     “Is that why you refuse to tell us your name?” Thorin asked. “Because it reminds you of your past?”

   “No,” she said, “it’s because I haven’t got a name. You bought me, you were supposed to give me one, but you didn’t. So now I haven’t got one.”

     “Then you should choose your own. To show that you are free,” Thorin said.

     For a moment, the very idea seemed confusing to her. But as she considered it, a smile appeared, and she nodded. “I will, then,” she said.

 

***   ***   ***

 

     More months passed. Summer turned to fall. On Durin’s Day that year, she announced her intention to go by the name Asta from then on, and Thorin was relieved to finally have something proper to call her. It certainly helped smooth their relationship, because he could now address her by name, and they both realized that being able to do so felt much nicer than the verbal contortions Thorin had gone through before in desperate attempts to avoid calling her things like “Hey you.”

   Fall turned to winter. The first winter during which she went by Asta was difficult, but she proved to be a hard worker, and often accompanied Thorin on his trips into the towns of Men to seek work. She wasn’t afraid of manual labor, and often joined Thorin in the blacksmith shops where he found work, keeping him company while learning what she could of the trade. They found friendship in the hours they spent in the shops, and on the journeys to and from the towns. As time went on Asta became less and less hung up on the fact that Thorin had bought her, and then set her free. Thorin, for his part, had stopped dwelling on that long ago, and saw Asta as being just like the other Dwarves of Erebor. The only real difference in his eyes was the growing affection he felt for her.

     One evening, as winter turned to spring and the hard ground softened to mud beneath their feet, they made the trek back to camp by themselves. The other Dwarves working in their nearby human village had returned home before sunset, but Thorin and Asta had been determined to finish their last project of the day, and had stayed well after dark to finish. As they neared the camp, a chilly wind that had more in common with the winter winds blew past, and Asta shivered. Without even thinking, Thorin pulled off his fur-lined jacket and draped it over her. She smiled and thanked him, and they made the rest of the journey to the camp in companionable silence. Thorin followed Asta to her small tent, as he usually did, and prepared to say goodnight to her as was also usual. But when he turned to leave, she reached out and touched his arm.

     “Won’t you come inside?” she asked. “It’s supposed to be spring but you’d never know it by the weather. Come on, have a warm drink with me.”

     Thorin ducked into the tent behind her and settled onto a pillow on the floor while Asta retrieved some hot water for tea. Within minutes, they each had a hot mug of tea in their hands, and for many long minutes they sipped it in comfortable silence.

     “I never did thank you properly,” Asta finally said when she was about half-way finished with her drink.

     “For what?” Thorin asked. His cheeks puffed out a little as he blew on his tea in the hopes of cooling it to a comfortable temperature.

     “Setting me free,” she replied. Thorin just tilted his head a little, so she added, “If you hadn’t, who knows where I would be right now…what I would be doing…if I would even still be alive…I have you to thank for that, Thorin. And I have you to thank for all the things I’ve learned in the past few months, and for your friendship…”

     Thorin shook his head. “You shouldn’t have to thank me for being a decent Dwarf,” he said. “Many others would have done the same.”

     “And many wouldn’t have,” Asta pointed out. “When you’re a slave you can’t expect decent behavior from anyone. You learn how rare it really is, and you learn to treasure it.” She set her mug down and scooted closer to Thorin, then took his mug from his hands, set it down too, and clasped his hands in her own. “And besides, I’m not just thanking you for being a decent Dwarf, I’m thanking you for being _you_. I care about you, Thorin, and…and I hope maybe someday you’ll care about me the same way…”

     She raised her head a bit and their eyes met, and in her gaze Thorin saw reflected all the things he had been trying to hide from himself for the past several months. His feelings of friendship towards her had long since turned deeper than that, but she had spent so much time afraid of him, and she had so much to learn as a new part of their group, that he had been terrified of doing or saying the wrong thing around her. The last thing he had wanted was to frighten her and drive her away, to scare her into going off into the wilderness to try to fend for herself alone. So he had done his best to ignore the growing affection he felt for her and his growing attraction to her, and to content himself with being her friend and with counting her among those he had to protect. But in her eyes, he saw all the things he had been feeling for months. And if her own expression was anything to go by, she saw the same in his.

     As if by some shared, silent agreement, they leaned towards each other, and their lips met in a gentle and hesitant kiss. It lasted only a moment, but that single moment was more than long enough for each one to feel the deep currents of attraction and desire running just below the surface within the other. They drew back just far enough to look into each other’s eyes once more. Thorin raised an eyebrow in a silent question, and Asta answered with a single nod. And then it was as though they had never been anything but lovers.

     Within moments, they were in each other’s arms, kissing and embracing with all the fervor of those whose emotions had long been denied, Asta moving to straddle Thorin’s lap in a desperate desire to be as close to him as she could manage. Thorin leaned back slowly, pulling Asta with him until he was resting on the pillows and furs that covered the bottom of her tent. She buried her hands in his hair as they moved, and the moment they were laying on the ground, she rolled and drew him along with her until he was resting on top of her. She gasped and tilted her head back as Thorin trailed gentle kisses down her neck and throat, until the collar of her shirt prevented him from going any further. He grumbled a little and she laughed as she reached up to undo the clasps and buttons holding her shirt together, ultimately baring herself to him as she worked the last clasp free and pushed the thick fabric aside. Thorin pushed himself up onto his knees and grinned a little as he admired her, then made quick work of tugging his own jacket and shirt off before tossing them aside and laying back down with Asta.

     “So lovely,” he murmured in her ear as he nuzzled against her neck. She just laughed a little, a soft and sweet sound that was like music to his ears. He grinned and kissed the spot he had been nuzzling, and let out a happy little moan as he felt her fingers running through his hair. They both would have been quite content to stay there like that all night, simply enjoying each other’s company and touches and the feeling of bare skin on bare skin. But the reality of both their situation and their desires set in rather quickly. As much as they might have wished it, they didn’t have forever, or even all night. And what they both truly wanted went much farther than simple kisses or shirtless cuddles. Once again, they felt as though there was no need for speech, for somehow they were in agreement and understood each other’s intentions completely.

     Thorin sat up first and pulled Asta along with him, and then they parted enough to make quick work of stripping out of what remained of their clothing. Tops and trousers were tossed aside with abandon and they came together again, exchanging deep kisses as they allowed their hands to roam freely over each other’s bodies, feeling the strength of muscles moving beneath skin and the patterns of scars from the struggles that has brought each of them to this moment. Asta lay back down and tugged Thorin on top of her once more, and when he was stretched out on top of her again she brought her hands to rest on his firm rear.

     “We haven’t got all night,” she whispered. “So let’s make the best of the time we have.”

     “Are you certain of this?” Thorin whispered back. “This is truly what you want?”

     She chuckled a little and kissed the tip of his nose. “I wouldn’t have it any other way. Come now, Thorin…make love to me.”

     Thorin was more than happy to give in to her request. He kissed her deeply once more before positioning himself and pushing into her with great care. He moaned softly, feeling almost overwhelmed with the pleasure of their joining, which he had desired for so long but had never dared imagine or hope for. Asta closed her eyes and tilted her head back a bit, letting out a soft sigh of contentment in return. When she finally looked up at him again, she smiled and cupped his face in her hands, then pulled him close again for a tender kiss. The kiss and her sweet sighs urged him on, and once he was certain they were both comfortable, he began to move within her, each gentle thrust drawing a pleased whimper or moan from each of them.

     Asta nipped at his lower lip, then titled her head back once more to allow him access to her throat. He nuzzled and kissed along her throat and neck and shoulders, burying one hand in her hair and using the other to cup one of her breasts as he did. She gasped and arched up into his touch, her own hands tracing the muscles in his back. His feather-light kisses and the way his beard felt against her skin made her laugh again, and Thorin raised his head to smile down at her before once more capturing her mouth in a desperate kiss, which she returned with just as much fire as she received.

     It didn’t take long for either of them to reach their climax, and they clung to each other as they came, shuddering and letting out soft groans of comfort and pleasure. When he finally managed to regain his breath, Thorin moved to lay beside Asta, who immediately snuggled close against him. He pulled a blanket up over them and wrapped her in a protective embrace as he began to doze off.

     “Thorin?”

     “Hmm?”

     “Love you…”

     He smiled and tilted his head down to kiss the top of her head, then rubbed her back a little as he murmured back, “And I you, love.”


End file.
